


sparring

by lorspolairepeluche



Series: all these earthly acts and more [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AYYY LOOK WHICH COUPLE OF DISASTERS FINALLY GOT OVER THEIR ANXIETIES AND SNOGGED, F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorspolairepeluche/pseuds/lorspolairepeluche
Summary: Sparring is more than a practice fight when it's with someone you know well. It's a dance, skirting around each other until one gets brave and brings you together.





	

Cullen shoved his way through the swarmed recruits. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t you all be training?”

“There’s a rogue taking bets on how many she can defeat!” a young templar answered, not recognizing his Commander in his excitement. “She’s on fifteen!”

A roar went up from the gathered crowd, and a familiar voice shouted, “Who’s next?”

“Sixteen!” the templar crowed.

Cullen pushed past more recruits, trying his best to see to the center of the circle. The recruits had left a large space for the matches, and a woman stood in the middle, wearing no armor and holding two knives that Cullen usually saw on her back while she leaned her hands on the war table. Her arms were spread, accepting the cheers as she laughed aloud.

She swung around—and saw him. Her eyes brightened, and she held up a hand. The enraptured recruits slowly quieted down, and the rogue’s voice rang clear. “I’ve found my next opponent!” She started toward him, nearly predatory, and the recruits parted until the two of them were face to face.

“Let’s test your skills, Commander,” Halla said with a smirk.

The recruits roared with approval, and a protesting Cullen was pushed to the center in the flurry of excitement. “Inquisitor!” he burst out. “What are you doing?”

The recruits went silent. Murmurs of “Inquisitor?” “That’s Inquisitor Trevelyan?” began flying around as Cullen crossed his arms.

“What are you doing?” he repeated.

Halla shrugged, unapologetic. “Training.”

“And betting on it.”

She smirked. “I’ve made ten sovereigns already.”

Cullen frowned harder.

Halla sighed. “Fine. I’ll give it back.” The smirk was back in a second. “ _If_ you can beat me.”

A slow roar started from the crowd until every recruit was clamoring for the match. Cullen could hear some shouting for him, some for the Inquisitor, and he resigned himself to the inevitable. “Fine,” he muttered.

The cheers got louder and Halla’s grin got bigger as Cullen shrugged off his coat, leaving him in just his shirt, pants, and sword belt. The cacophony outside had had him hurrying from his office; he hadn’t even put on his armor. He figured he and the Inquisitor were on fair ground there; she was only wearing a shirt—that probably wasn’t technically hers—on top. He drew his hand-and-a-half sword from its sheath with a slow, dramatic ringing sound and stood ready.

Halla grinned, dropping into a fighting stance herself, her knives glinting ominously in the morning sun as she switched her grip on them.

For several seconds, there was silence in the center of the circle as the two of them sized each other up. And then Halla’s foot moved, sliding smoothly across the grass. They began to circle each other, eyes locked and everything else fading from sight.

Cullen lunged.

Halla was forced to bend backward under the ferocity of his attack, catching his blade on both of hers, escaping by slipping past him on one side. He swung around, and her knife clanged on his sword as she aimed a blow at him and he got his sword up just in time.

The recruits were roaring in appreciation, but neither of the combatants could hear it as they threw themselves into fury. Sunlight reflected off metal and sweat as they flew around each other. Halla’s feet were ridiculously light, Cullen realized, but she had to get in close to have an effect. If he lured her in, moved _just_ fast enough…

Halla’s head jerked back as Cullen’s sword swept up, coming to rest on her exposed collarbone. For a few seconds, they stood like that, neither moving, a perfect picture of a good sparring match.

Halla closed her eyes, and her knives dropped to the ground, embedding themselves there. “I submit.”

Cullen let his sword fall as the recruits cheered for their Commander. He barely heard them. Halla wasn’t looking at him as she crouched to pick her knives back up. She avoided his eyes as she stood, sheathed her blades, and called, “All bets are off! Keep your money!”

The cheers got louder, and Halla turned to leave. In seconds, the crowd of recruits had swallowed her from Cullen’s sight. _Something’s wrong,_ he realized.

“Get back to your training!” he shouted as he sheathed his sword and started after her.

He found her under a tree in a courtyard not far away. “Lady Trevelyan.”

“Oh, drop the title, Cullen,” she sighed. “It’s been long enough.”

“What should I call you, then?” Cullen ventured. This was a side of the Inquisitor he had never seen, only heard about from the others who went on missions with her—missions that went badly.

She paused, her back still to him. “Well…” Her voice was very quiet as she said, “After Haven…when we came back…I don’t remember much, but I remember…you called me Halla.”

Cullen stopped. “Did I?”

Halla nodded. “I’d…like it if you called me that.”

“I couldn’t—” he began, automatically taking a step backward.

She finally turned. “Please. No one calls me Halla anymore except Aiyan and Saraan and Panna.” She hugged herself, looking away from him. “Please, Cullen. Call me by my name.”

Cullen opened his mouth, debated with himself for two seconds—

“Halla.”

The name rolled off his tongue easily, easier than it had at Haven, and he knew he had done the right thing when her eyes darted up to him, an uncertain smile sneaking onto her mouth.

“Are you all right?” Cullen started toward her again. “What possessed you to challenge every single member of our army? We do still need them, you know, so I can’t have you putting them all in the infirmary.”

“What possessed me?” Halla’s laugh was hollow. “What an apt choice of words. Fear, Cullen. Fear possessed me.”

“Fear?” Cullen echoed, stopping again.

“At the battle outside Haven…when we faced Corypheus, I couldn’t do anything,” she confessed. “I was…I was useless. He held me in the air by my wrist, and I just…I couldn’t _do_ anything,” she repeated. She drew her hands up, clenching them into desperate fists in front of her. “I needed to feel…control. I needed to feel like I could do something. That, maybe, just maybe…I could win.”

“Does defeating sixteen recruits in a row count as winning?” Cullen asked, folding his arms.

Halla’s arms relaxed, and she smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yeah. I guess it does. Beating the Commander would have made it better, even though I couldn’t do that in front of your forces.” She dropped her gaze.

“You let me win,” Cullen realized.

“They needed to see you win,” Halla reasoned. “You’re their leader. They need to see you as strong. If a woman beat you in single combat like that…”

“Halla, _you’re_ their leader, and they don’t care you’re a woman,” Cullen assured her.

Halla laughed once, a bitter sound. “If only. You should have heard what the first ones said about me as they came to challenge me. ‘I’ll make some easy coin off this one.’ ‘I’ll cut this wench down to size for you.’ ‘I—’”

A firm hand on her shoulder, a quick, angry, “Halla.” She looked up to find Cullen’s face dark with rage. “Who said that?” he demanded. “I will not allow talk like that to fester among our troops. If we’re going to win, we need each and every one of our soldiers to respect one another, and we especially need them to respect you.”

“Cullen, it’s fine, it’s—”

“No, it is _not,_ ” he insisted. “If we’re going to win, if we’re going to defeat this Corypheus—everyone has to be loyal to one another.” He sighed, dropping his hand from her shoulder and looking away. “We’re still a small force. If we are to win any battles against Corypheus’s forces, we have to be united. We must respect each other, and we must respect our Inquisitor. So.” He faced her again. “We’re going to spar again, and you’re not going to hold back.”

—

Cullen sat back on the ground, sword lying far from his grasp, thoroughly beaten.

And he was smiling. Just as Halla was smiling above him, her knife pointed at his neck. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, neither moving, just grinning at each other as the gathered soldiers cheered.

Halla sheathed her knife and held out her hand to Cullen. “Not bad, Commander.”

Cullen accepted her help, and with their combined strength, they pulled him up hard enough to send him a step past her. “Not bad yourself, Inquisitor,” he answered, scooping up his sword and sheathing it at his hip. “I—”

Cullen turned, and he stopped. For several moments, he just watched Halla. She was turning, her arms spread, accepting the cheers of her people, laughing with exhilaration.

_She’s beautiful._ It leapt, unbidden, to Cullen’s mind, just like the first time they’d met at Haven. He tore his eyes from her as soon as he realized his train of thought. _She is the Inquisitor,_ he told himself firmly. _It would be inappropriate. It would—it would—_

Halla turned to look at him again, her black hair flying around her face, her smile more effortless than he had ever seen it.

_It would be wonderful._

Cullen turned, forcing away thoughts of that smile being smiled for him and only him. _No. Even outside of the Inquisition, it would be impossible. She’s a noble, Cullen. You’re a commoner._

Cullen was trying hard enough to convince himself that it would never work that he didn’t feel Halla’s eyes on his back, didn’t see her smile fall, didn’t hear her start after him.

The soldiers watched them go in silence until one of them said aloud, “Ten silver says they snog by the end of the week.”

—

“Cullen?”

He looked up from his desk as Halla stepped hesitantly inside his office. “What can I do for you, Inquisitor?” he asked, straightening and resting his hands on the pommel of his sword.

“Can we…can we talk?”

Cullen’s heart jumped into overdrive. “I…of course, Inquisitor. What do you want—”

“Not here,” Halla interrupted hastily. “Somewhere…somewhere else. More private.”

Cullen nodded slowly. “The battlements?”

Halla swallowed. “Yes. The battlements will…oh, just come on.” She left his office, doing her best to keep her gait from seeming agitated.

Cullen followed, trying to keep his eyes away from her. It wouldn’t do to be seen staring at the Inquisitor like that.

The battlements were sunny, lovely, and the glow caught Halla’s hair just right, showing off the hints of deep red-brown in the black. Cullen tore his eyes away again, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a…nice day,” he offered.

“What?” Halla sounded distracted, turning to face him.

“It’s…” Cullen tried again. “There was something you wish to discuss?”

“Certainly not the weather.” Halla bit her lip when she smiled this time.

Cullen couldn’t help smiling back. “I assumed that much.” He couldn’t hold her gaze, and she watched as he turned away, nearly starting to pace. “I—I can’t say I haven’t wondered what I would say to you in this sort of situation.”

“What’s stopping you?” Halla asked, following him to the edge of the battlements. Her voice was so very gentle, so very trusting, that Cullen couldn’t reply with anything but the truth.

“You’re the Inquisitor. We’re at war. And you…I didn’t think it was possible,” he finished, his voice very quiet. He chanced a couple steps toward her.

“And yet I’m still here,” Halla replied, hesitating to reach for him.

“So you are,” Cullen whispered, stepping closer. “It seems too much to ask, but…I want to.”

Halla was leaning in, her eyes slipping shut, asking, begging—

A door slammed. “Commander! You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report!”

Cullen turned to see an agent hurrying toward them. “What?” he snapped.

“Sister Leliana’s report,” the agent repeated. “You wanted it delivered without delay?”

Cullen’s stare bored into the man, as fierce as he could make it. The agent’s eyes strayed to the woman still with her back against the rampart, looking distinctly nervous. “Or—to your office,” he ventured. “Right.” He backed away, only chancing turning and fleeing when the Commander’s back turned.

“If you need to—mm!” Halla was quickly cut off. Cullen’s mouth was suddenly on hers, his hands cradling her neck. Her head spun for a moment— _he’s kissing me!_ —before her hands found his waist and she leaned into the kiss, her eyes closing.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen blurted as he backed off. “That was—that was—really nice,” he finished in almost a whisper.

Halla’s wit returned to her. “I believe that was a kiss,” she teased. “But I can’t be sure. It’s all a blur.”

Cullen finally smiled. “Yes…well…” He leaned in again, and his kiss was gentler this time, almost hesitant until Halla pushed a little. Cullen pulled her closer, and his last coherent thought was that his unbidden wistfulness had been right earlier. _This is wonderful._

—

The agent slid onto the stool next to his friend and slid him a handful of coins. “What’s this for?” the soldier asked, bewildered.

“You were right,” the agent answered shortly.

The soldier’s grin dawned slowly before he turned and called to the tavern, raising his mug, “To Inquisitor Trevelyan and Commander Cullen! May they make each other happy!”


End file.
